“You’re sure this is okay?” she whispered, her words barely for him.
He looked at her, at the worry still etched behind her eyes. “I’m sure.” He squeezed her hand, willing her to believe it.
She smiled, then covered it quickly by sipping her coffee. But he caught the smile anyway, and in the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, he saw the same mixture of relief and hope that ran through his own veins.
Jonah cleared his throat. “If you two are done making eyes at each other, we should probably get moving. River’s got to break at least one major appliance before noonor he’ll lose his edge.”
River slouched back in his chair. “Don’t challenge me, Reed. You know I’ll do it.”
Boone jabbed a thumb at the clock on the wall. “Let’s roll, then.” He drained the rest of his coffee, dropped the mug into the sink with practiced ease, and gave Bishop a low, two-fingered whistle. The dog rose instantly, tail wagging, ready for whatever came next.
When the kitchen cleared out, Johanna lingered by the sink, rinsing her plate and lining it up with the others. Walker watched her, counting the heartbeats until she looked up.
“I meant what I said last night,” she said quietly. “About not being afraid. About wanting this.”
He crossed the room, stepped behind her, and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Me too.”
She leaned into him, the tension in her body unspooling by degrees. “It’s not going to be easy, is it?”
“No,” he said. “But nothing worth having ever is.” He turned her gently, and in the bright, morning-lit kitchen, kissed her for the first time without hiding it. She tasted of coffee and sleep and something sweet—honey or vanilla, maybe, but he didn’t care to put a name to it.
And to Walker, it felt like the start of everything. He took another sip of coffee, felt Johanna lean into his shoulder, and let himself believe they had finally gotten it right.
part four
today
JAX
twenty-nine
Walker leaned against the porch railing, coffee mug warming his hands as the winter wind bit at his ears. Snow had been falling since dawn, dusting the ranch in four fresh inches, turning Valor Ridge into something from a postcard. Beside him, Johanna tucked herself closer, her shoulder pressing against his arm. They watched the first headlights cut through the gray afternoon, twin beams crawling up the long drive, tires kicking up plumes of snow that glittered in the fading light.
“Here we go,” he said, sipping the cooling coffee. “The invasion begins.”
Johanna laughed. “You love it. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
He grunted, but didn’t argue. The truth was, she was right. Ten years ago, he might have balked at the idea of Valor Ridge becoming this kind of gathering place. Back then, it had just been him and Boone, the two of them rattling around in a house too big and empty, trying to build something out of broken pieces. Now look at them.
He squinted at the approaching vehicle. A black truck with a lift kit and oversized tires that handled the snow-packeddrive with ease. Ghost. Only he would drive something that looked like it belonged in a military convoy.
“Good thing we plowed this morning.”
Johanna nodded, her silver-streaked hair catching snowflakes that melted almost instantly. “Boone said the county roads are getting bad. Everyone’s trying to beat the storm.”
Ghost cut the engine, and the passenger door swung open before he could circle around. Naomi stepped out, snowflakes immediately dotting her dark hair. She clutched a covered casserole dish, steam rising from under the foil and instantly dissipating in the cold air. Ghost emerged from the driver’s side, loaded down with canvas bags, moving with the quiet efficiency that had earned him his nickname. They walked side by side toward the house, Naomi’s shoulder bumping Ghost’s arm occasionally, comfortable in their shared space.
“Good to see them together,” Johanna murmured, smiling as they approached. “He looks... settled.”
Walker nodded. Ghost had changed since finding Naomi this past fall, the hard edges softened just enough that you noticed if you knew him well. The man still moved like a shadow, still watched every exit in a room, but his eyes found Naomi’s often, checking in, something almost like peace in the connection.
“Merry Christmas,” Naomi called, climbing the steps.
Walker opened the door for them. “Come on in before you freeze. Roads okay?”
“Fine for now,” Ghost said, his voice low. “Another hour, different story.” He stomped snow from his boots on the mat.
Naomi rolled her eyes toward Ghost and poked his side. “You two act as if we don’t live a mile down the driveway.” She headed straight for the kitchen with her dish. “Hope you’re hungry. My grandmother’s recipe. Might’ve gone overboard.”
